


Nidhogg

by The_Exile



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Game Over Screen exists in-Universe, Gen, Headcanon, Inspired by Music, Mild Language, Pre-Game(s), Spoilers, path not established, references to unused game content, sans knows everything, someone keeps sending humans down there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7892509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Exile/pseuds/The_Exile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asgore teaches his sons about the source of royal magic - the ability to communicate with the Game Over Screen. He stresses the importance of respecting this power, especially when he isn't sure if and how it works for Chara. Then disaster strikes and Asgore breaks the very same rules. With things rapidly getting worse, only Sans knows what is really going on and he can't tell anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nidhogg

As usual, Chara was first through the door. When he saw his adoptive brother lagging behind, peeking around the corner of the enormous, elaborately wrought, black iron double doors, the human boy gave his slightly eerie smile and gestured, somewhere in-between impatience and reassurance. The white-furred, floppy-eared boy frowned and shook his head, still unconvinced.

"I don't think I'll like it in here. It's dark and cold," protested Asriel, "And the music sounds like a funeral march."

"No it doesn't, it's relaxing," said Chara, "And if I'm not cold, you can't be. You're the one with fur."

"You'd pretend it wasn't cold if it means you get your way. You've done things like that before," Asriel accused, folding his arms, "If I catch cold and get eaten by ghosts, I'm telling mom."

"There's nothing in here that I can't protect you from," interjected their father's louder, deeper voice, "The Revelation Chamber is meant for us. It is our royal burden and destiny, my legacy to you. The dark and cold is only the way of the mountain that you will one day rule. Or do you reject it?"

"Are you sure I'm allowed in?" asked Chara. The fact that he was hesitating made Asriel even more nervous. He was aware that, if anything fazed his brother, it was the times when he felt an outsider, maybe not quite as accepted as people dared to admit out loud. He had secrets of his own, Asriel knew, things he wouldn't even admit to his closest friend, and this was probably something to do with them. Still, he wished his brother would return to his normal bossy self and that his dad would also come out of scary formal mode.

"If anything, I'm curious to see what a human would make of this place," admitted Asgore. Then he bent down so that he was at eye level with his sons. He took Chara's arms firmly and looked into his eyes until they stopped darting around, "I say you are my true son and heir, and therefore you are. That is enough for the rites of this place."

"You're really gonna teach us your magic?" piped up Asriel.

"I'm going to show you," said Asgore, ushering them both in, standing behind them now so that they couldn't randomly decide to turn back again, "The source of our magic."

* * *

The door slowly swung shut behind them, making both boys jump, but when they saw what was around them, it instantly engaged their attention a lot more than the chill, the trip hazards and the lack of exits combined. 

It looked like the night sky. Asriel was about to say this out loud as he gasped in wonder, until he suddenly remembered that almost all his stargazing trips were unauthorised, upon which he quickly closed his gaping mouth. Looking over at his brother, he saw that Chara watched the vast darkness that hung all around them, more complete than any unlit cave, with the same amount of fascination, thoughtfulness and probably even, behind that indecipherable human smirk, respect. It was more ancient than the mountain, felt even more alive, and it sang an unceasing song. Chara had begun humming it, matching the simple melody's rise and fall. Asriel could sort of see, now, why his brother found the tune relaxing. It reminded him of dropping off to sleep with his mother watching him, or sitting in the middle of a tunnel, closing his eyes and letting a strong current blow his ears back. He didn't know his brother was that good at singing. His voice was rich and clear, with no hint of dishonesty. Maybe you just needed to find the right songs for you, mused Asriel.

"What's that say, Chara?" he asked, pointing to the giant lettering above him. Unlike the real night sky, the room was fairly plain, with only a few little specks of white, but there was a large, broad pattern of white light that he recognised as letters in a human alphabet.

"Huh? Oh, it says..." Chara squinted. The words were rather large to take in during one glance, "Game Over?"

"What's that mean?" asked Asriel, frowning, "I thought that was something to do with death. Why did you two take me into a room full of death?"

"Do NOT lose focus, I already said it cannot hurt you!" said Asgore, "The Revelation requires respect, though. It's a place of peace. Your discordant bleats are ruining the song."

"Sorry, dad," muttered Asriel from behind his drooping ears. He expected Chara to snigger but he was either still rattled or lost in thought.

"There's a side of it that means death, yes, but this is something more," explained Asgore in a firm whisper, "This is more like the origin of life and death, where souls are supposed to return to after death. Once they're there, they get cleaned up, and they can be given a second chance, if it's still possible... if there's still a place in their life they can be sent back to without it hurting destiny. I know it's difficult to understand," he added, "But it's more like something alive that you communicate with than a fact you know. That's why I brought you to show it, rather than told you."

"I recognise that song," said Chara, "It's in the royal fanfare."

"Yes, it is. As I said, it's the power of the Crown. The very fact that we're allowed to take that song," said Asgore, "It's called 'Determination'."

"Because you need it to try again?" guessed Chara.

"Because it determines your fate," corrected the King.

"But people don't come back from death," Asriel pointed out.

"How would you know they didn't come back if they go to a different point in their life, dummy?" countered Chara, "Maybe I died just now, but got sent back to yesterday. You'd never know..."

"No bleating in the portal room," repeated Asgore. Human or no, Chara's more obnoxious behaviour was still considered bleating, "Indeed, there can be... problems with returning. Almost all of us down here in the mountain don't return. It could be that something about our lifepaths, our fates, allow no gaps for us to return. But, rest assured, our souls are still safely ferried to that land, carried by that song."

"So, that's how our magic works? We get it all from here?" asked Asriel.

"That's only the simplest use for it, as a powerful source of magic. It also gave us our friends Sans and Papyrus," said Asgore, "Old Napstablook, too. They were just there, one day, when I checked the portal. I think the portal gives me things as compensation, sometimes, because it can't answer the question of why it isn't two-way for us. I don't know if it genuinely has no answer, but it definitely can't tell me. I should be grateful it lets me talk to it at all," Asgore shook his head, "But whether or not it's a gift you want, someone trustworthy needs to take responsibility for it. It's always been the duty of the royal line – to respect the mountain’s revelation, to never bring discord to the music or never let the light go out."

"Does it even work for me?" asked Chara. He had suddenly regained his confidence and was now trying to poke one of the letters. This had about as much effect as trying to reach up into the sky and poke the moon. 

“I… don’t know. And I don’t want you experimenting with it unless your mother or I are present,” said Asgore, “Asriel, you too. You’re a good student of magic but you haven’t even begun to learn about royal magic. It isn’t something to ever mess around with lightly.”

“If I can’t learn it, does that mean I can’t be King?” asked Chara.

“I explained that to you before,” said Asriel, “There’ll just have to be a human King and a monster King down here. I bet humans have their own magic anyway, and you’ll grow into it one day. Then humans and monsters won't have to fight.”

Asgore gave his sons a thoughtful look. Then he smiled and took both their hands, “And I’m sure you’ll be terrifyingly good diplomats, just like your mother, who I’m now absolutely sure has been teaching you something behind my back. This has been more than enough for two children to cope with for one day without cake.”

“Cake!” agreed both boys emphatically.

* * *

Don’t bring discord to the song. Don’t ever let the light go out.

No matter how much you want genuine silence and darkness right now. No matter how much you wish the whole thing never existed, or that it at least worked fairly for you. 

Sans had tried to comfort him with the knowledge that one of his sons, at least, was probably returning to his second chance, he just hadn’t been successful yet. It wasn’t literally one more chance, it was often three, or sometimes it was too many to count, and it was just best to wait. His words fell on deaf ears to Asgore, who saw only his two sons laid out in the royal tomb. He had played the song for their soul anyway, a slower, more elegant version of it known as the ‘King’s Description’, reserved for a state burial, meant to signify to the Game Over Screen that this was a royal soul passing through. He wasn’t really sure any more if destiny truly cared, not when his sons’ fates could send them such a brutal and meaningless death. Sans said something about those kinds of deaths most often leading to second chances but the King took no notice. His heart wasn’t in the song. Toriel was trying extra hard for him, worry showing openly on her face for both her husband and the ceremony she understood just as well as he did. This just made him feel worse.

Don’t bring discord to the song.

After that day, he didn’t feel confident in his ability to return to the Revelation Chamber at all. Until the one night during the experiments with Alphys when he ventured in to ask for divine guidance, still unsure whether he should be doing any of this. The music sounded distorted and was playing far too fast. It sounded like the gates of Hell had already opened. Yes, he was convinced, the laughing could only be the voice of the Devil. Suddenly convinced that he was trapped in the room, he turned around and roared at the door, slamming his fists against it. Toriel ran down the stairs, threw her own royal spells at the door until it agreed to open, then dragged him out, demanding to know what he was doing. If there was a way to tune it, he knew that he was no longer capable of it. He looked pleadingly up at his wife.

“… And for Heaven’s sake, stop that bleating!” she said, thumping him on the head. 

The night after that, she left him, muttering something about needing space to sit and think of a solution. She never came back.

* * *

From his usual spot in the shadows, Sans watched the boy rub his eyes, blink and look around him, that familiar vague expression on his face. He looked a lot more solemn, this time, even though he clearly had no idea what the hell had happened to him. 

They never do. No matter how strong-willed they are, that transition always wipes their memory and leaves them vaguely traumatised over something. Knowing how bad the connection was, Sans would not have been surprised if they all got cut off mid-transfer, leaving a part of them behind. Somewhere else. 

One day they’re going to send one of the hard-liners, Sans realised, one of those who know exactly what they’re doing, and have been instructed to wipe the place clean at all costs, corrupted (and now deliberately damaged) reincarnation cycle and soul-memories and all. Clean, efficient, no mistakes – that was the Game Over motto when it came to dealing with security risks of this magnitude. There was a part of Sans who still thought like that. If Flowey ever got loose from the barrier trapping everyone in with him, he would be free to unleash his special, corrupted brand of limited celestial-level access on anything and anyone he felt like, probably getting even more worlds deleted. That part of Sans would probably accuse the rest of going native.

He wished he could walk straight up to the boy and say ‘look, this place has a fragile balance and breaking literally anything is just going to make the problem even worse’, but he knew the act itself would break something even more fragile. If he made use of his cosmic awareness even to pass it on to a vulnerable child, it would give Flowey even more free reign to do so than the ability he had already gained by cheating. 

No, whatever he did, it was going to have to be from the sidelines. It wasn’t like he even knew who he was talking to. This might be someone completely different with new rules. 

In the few minutes that Sans had stood thinking, the boy had proven he at least wasn’t dumb enough to fall for Flowey’s usual bullshit. Now he was stood there talking quite happily with Toriel about pies. Watching Toriel live out her self-imposed exile, her heartbreak over every child who refused to stay and keep her company where she could hide them from Asgore, made him feel sad, but he felt obliged to watch over her as well as the King who had actually commanded his service as a guardian.

The child hadn’t shown any of the aggressive tendencies that were side-effects of the failed transmission, or maybe just how they all were naturally, he couldn’t quite remember. He had even been able to walk down a corridor without killing anybody. A part of him wondered if this one would actually be capable of fixing things. The other part of him wondered if the child would be strong enough to permanently kill a certain near-godlike abomination, and what exactly that would entail.

It was difficult to tell what it meant when a child walked slowly down a corridor, eyes closed, humming ‘Determination’ softly to himself.


End file.
